


The Great Christmas Light Fight

by agent85



Series: 52 Stories in 52 Weeks [46]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Christmas, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, Reality TV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9130249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: "So," said Daisy, "is it just a coincidence that the two of you have the craziest Christmas light displays in the state, or . . ."Fitz rolled his eyes and all but buried his head in his script."We do this every year. It's a . . ."He was embarrassed, because it should have been easy to explain. He and Simmons were competitors before they even met and after, when she beat him for top of their class at university and he beat her at getting a prime position at SHIELD Technologies. But it seemed like the wrong thing to say to someone who worked for such a family-friendly show. So when Daisy asked him if it was a tradition, he agreed."That's a nice tradition," she said, "bringing so much holiday cheer to your community, and stuff. So, why don't we take a tour of the display, and you can try out those lines." She cupped a hand around her mouth conspiratorially."And if you don't like them, just say whatever you want. If it works, it works."Fitz only gritted his teeth and nodded.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SHIELDSIL (newbie93)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbie93/gifts).



> It has been such a joy to be your FitzSimmons Secret Santa this year, Sil!! I hope you'll forgive me for getting this in a little late, but I had a mishap today involving an unexpected trip to San Francisco and almost, but not quite, getting on a cable car. I hope you enjoy this at least half as much as I enjoy being in this fandom with you! <3
> 
> And welcome to week fifty-one of my [52 short stories in 52 weeks challenge](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/52)! This week's prompt: a story set at Christmas.

"So you know her, right? Jemma Simmons?"

Fitz looked up from the script, still frowning.

"She lives across the street from me. Of course I know her. But why do I need a script if this is supposed to be a reality show?"

Daisy Johnson shot a knowing glance at the cameraman, Mack. 

"Television is television. Besides, some people find it easier if they don't have to stress over the words. Just, don't worry about it too much. You did the hard work. We're just here to make you look good."

Fitz looked around and silently agreed. He'd been working on the Christmas light display since January, and between the nativity scene and the animated depiction of the flight to Egypt, he'd managed to bring the total number of lights to well over a million. There was no way Simmons could beat that. 

"So," said Daisy, "is it just a coincidence that the two of you have the craziest Christmas light displays in the state, or . . ."

Fitz rolled his eyes and all but buried his head in his script.

"We do this every year. It's a . . ."

He was embarrassed, because it should have been easy to explain. He and Simmons were competitors before they even met and after, when she beat him for top of their class at university and he beat her at getting a prime position at SHIELD Technologies. But it seemed like the wrong thing to say to someone who worked for such a family-friendly show. So when Daisy asked him if it was a tradition, he agreed.

"That's a nice tradition," she said, "bringing so much holiday cheer to your community, and stuff. So, why don't we take a tour of the display, and you can try out those lines." She cupped a hand around her mouth conspiratorially.  "And if you don't like them, just say whatever you want. If it works, it works."  

Fitz only gritted his teeth and nodded.

* * *

"Remind me why you're doing this, mate?" 

Hunter had to take a long swig of beer before he could raise an eyebrow appropriately.

"I told you," Fitz said, crossing his arms, "she asked me to."

Hunter stared before taking another sip. "I thought you said you've never actually talked to her."

"I haven't, it's just . . ." He paused, frowning at his computer screen. His display had to be finalized by the time they actually came back to film, and if he changed it so the giant Christmas tree was flashing red-green-white instead of red-white-green-white, wouldn't it—? He almost jumped when Hunter pulled the keyboard out from under his fingers. The two men stared at each other for a moment before Fitz continued. "Bobbi told me."

That made the corner of Hunter's mouth quirk up. "Bobbi, huh? Your little go-between?"

Fitz glared at him. "I've told you a hundred times—"

"She's a biologist you met in physical therapy who _just happens_ to be chummy with your arch rival, right?" He took another sip of beer. "That's not convenient at all."

Really, it was incredibly awkward, but there was no point in trying to convince Hunter of the fact.

"So, what happened, exactly? She just sauntered in and challenged you to a Christmas duel on behalf of her comrade?"

"No," said Fitz, waving a hand for emphasis. "Not exactly. She just . . . she mentioned that Simmons was sending in an application, and mentioned that Simmons said it'd be a shame if I didn't sign up, too. Said Simmons said we'd finally settle it once and for all."

"Yeah," said Hunter, "definitely not a challenge."

Fitz rolled his eyes, then snagged his keyboard back when Hunter was distracted with another sip of beer.

"Oi!"

"She's really good, Hunter. I've got to make sure I'm better."

Hunter cocked his head and took a long look at Fitz. "You know what _I_ think," he said, "you should forget all this programming nonsense and just, you know, try to get a little intel from Bobbi. See if you can't exert a little . . . influence."

"I can't seduce her!"

Hunter only shrugged. "You never know until you try."

Fitz kept his eyes covered, trying to shut off the horror show that was his train of thought. Even if he was successful—which he would never be, not in a million years—she was his friend, and just the thought of—no. 

"She's three inches taller than I am," he said, "and she's a black belt in judo. She'd kill me."

Hunter considered that for a moment, pushing out his lower lip while scratching thoughtfully at his stubble.

"Okay," he said, "new plan: _I_ seduce Bobbi."

" _NO!_ "

"You don't know mate, I might be her type."

When Fitz had the courage to look over at him, he found Hunter leaning against the wall with his arms folded, sporting the cocky grin that Fitz expected. What horrified him most of all was that with Bobbi's confidence and Hunter's swagger, Fitz could almost see it working.

"You know what," Hunter continued, "that might be perfect, because then it leaves Simmons for you. Don't tell me you've never thought of it, Fitz. I don't know if I'll ever get over my disappointment if you didn't. All those late nights studying so you could beat her . . ."

"Hunter."

"All those times you woke up in the middle of the night worried she would trounce you . . ."

" _Hunter_."

"Honestly, the sexual tension is unbearable for _me_ , so I can't imagine how it must be for—"

"HUNTER! OUT!"

Before Hunter could do so much as finish off his beer, Fitz grabbed him by the elbow and pushed him out of the room, down the hall, across the front room, and out the door. When he locked the door, he heard Hunter tap against it with his bottle.

"Just think about it, mate." Fitz could only imagine the wicked grin stretching across Hunter's face. "You know she's been thinking about you, too."

* * *

Fitz wasn't sure exactly how he got in a staring contest with Elena Rodriguez, but he wasn't going to lose. He ignored the burning in his eyes and pictured the collection of makeup brushes in her hand. He'd let his eyes melt before he let her come any closer.

In the end, though, Elena only sighed and folded her arms at him.

"This is stupid," she said. "Just let me do my job."

"No!"

"You're going on television, Fitz."

Fitz turned to follow the low, booming voice and found Mack the cameraman to his left. 

"That's still no excuse for . . ." He waved a hand in Elena's general direction. "All that."

Elena shook her head in exasperation. "I'm very fast," she said. "I'll be in and out before you know it."

"That's why they call her 'Yoyo,'" agreed Mack.

Fitz scowled at him. "Shouldn't you be filming b-roll, or something? I'm not sure what qualifies you to give makeup advice."

Mack smiled at him, shaking his head. "Alright, but you better treat the young lady the way she deserves, or I'll have to come back and make sure that you do." Fitz furrowed his brow in confusion until he saw Mack wink at Elena. When she blushed in return, it clicked.

"You shouldn't have made him go," Elena whispered as she watched Mack leave. 

Fitz shrugged. "Sorry. I just felt weird, having him watch me, you know?"

"You always feel weird," she replied, and Fitz wasn't sure if she missed a word (her thick accent betrayed her inexperience in English), or if she just made some all-encompassing verdict on his whole life. He also wasn't sure how he felt about it. But when she got into his personal space and looked deeply into his eyes in what was likely an attempt at finding the right shade, he wondered if she really did have some mystical way of looking into his soul.

Except, he corrected himself, it would actually be highly unlikely, because magic wasn't real.

But even as she poked and prodded at him, he couldn't shake the question born from Elena's comment. _Did_ he feel weird? And if he felt weird all the time, wouldn't the weirdness start to feel normal? Or perhaps it wasn't relative to him, but it had to do with how he compared to humanity as a whole. If that was the case, then yes, he _did_ always feel weird. He'd spent an entire year designing and building a Christmas light show, just so he could literally outshine his neighbor. 

"There," Elena said, "all done. But if you make the Turtle Man leave again, I'll shave off your eyebrows."

"What?"

But she was gone before he knew it, with no trace of her except for the goop she'd left on his face. He was just about to bring his sleeve up to wipe it all off when he saw Daisy walk in.

"Oh, you're all ready. Good." She looked him up and down, as if scrutinizing Elena's work. "Okay. We're all set up to start shooting. Do you remember your lines?"

Fitz wished that he didn't remember, that he couldn't remember, that he'd forgotten to sign up for this circus in the first place. Clearly, he hadn't been thinking straight. If he'd known at the beginning that he'd have to wear makeup and stand in front of a camera spouting lines—

"I know what you're thinking," said Daisy walking off and motioning for him to follow, "but it's really not that bad. You lead us around your display, talk about it for a while, and then we come back with the judge and you do it all over again. Then you're done." She paused. "Unless you win, in which case we'll come back and film you accepting the trophy."

Fitz swallowed. That, really, was what it was all about. He could almost imagine the feel of the trophy in his hand, though he wasn't exactly sure what it was supposed to look like. Was it just a little Christmas tree? A big Christmas light bulb? Well, it didn't matter. What mattered was that he would have it, and Simmons wouldn't.

"So, do you need to go over your lines again, or are you okay?"

Fitz looked up at Daisy, then back down to the lines, then back up at her.

"I'm an engineer. I can talk about the materials I used and how it works. That's not a problem. Just—just tell me if I'm talking too much."

Daisy smiled. "I can handle that."

* * *

It was later, when they were wrapping up the shoot, that Bobbi appeared. Fitz knew before he actually saw her, from the way Hunter's off-screen heckles were suddenly silenced. The moment Daisy let them take five, he hurried over to rescue her, only to find her with her feet propped up against his retaining wall, knocking back a beer that looked suspiciously like the ones in his own fridge.

"And there he is," she greeted. "The man of the hour! How does it feel to be a rockstar?"

Fitz felt the blush that started in his cheeks and ducked in a vain attempt to hide it.

"Remind me how you found out about this little soirée again?" Hunter knocked back another of Fitz's beers. "I would have remembered if he told me he was inviting you."

Bobbi shot Hunter a sly glance before directing her answer to Fitz. "Jemma asked me to come over to her place and help finish up a few things. The crew told us they were filming you first, so I thought I'd take a look."

Fitz's mind went completely blank, but somehow he managed to squeak out a, "Jemma? Simmons?"

Bobbi didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, they wanted to film you both in the same day, since you live so close to each other. I think they're already over there setting up. You should head over with me and check it out when you're done." 

If his mind was blank before, now it was freezing over. Him? Going over there? That was against their unwritten rules. She'd avoided being in classes with him at university, asked to get reassigned from projects he was on at SHIELD Tech, and had otherwise avoided him at all costs since the moment she was aware of his existence. But when he explained that Simmons wouldn't want him there, Bobbi only shook her head at him.

"Fitz, she asked me to invite you. I'm sure it'll be fine"

Fitz looked to Hunter for help and found absolutely none. How could he make them understand? How could Simmons just go and change their sacred rules so suddenly?

"You okay, Fitz?" asked Daisy.

He turned to see her approaching with a concerned face and instantly felt sorry that she'd fallen in the middle of this mess. 

"Bobbi thinks Jemma Simmons is going to win the competition," he heard himself say.

He waited for Bobbi to object, but was first met with Daisy's knowing glance. "It's not up to me who wins, Fitz. But you can always go across the street and judge for yourself."

"Wait," he said, "I can? There's not some . . . not some rule about that?"

Daisy shrugged at him. "There's really never been a reason for anyone to make a rule about it, and the truth is that I don't care, so you should do what you want. Just, you know, don't sabotage her, or anything."

His immediate objection died on his tongue. 

"Oh, don't worry,"Bobbi offered, "he's one of the good ones." She turned to Fitz, emptying the beer bottle. "So Fitz, looks like it's up to you. Do you want to go over to see Jemma's display?"

Fitz was practically beside himself with indecision as his understanding of the world battled with his own curiosity. But with three pairs of eyes watching him, he knew he had to give an answer.

He, of all people, was the most surprised when he said yes.


	2. Chapter 2

Fitz gulped as he looked at the street that separated Simmons' property from his.

"You're . . . you're sure she doesn't mind?"

He found himself wiping his palms on his pants—when had they become so sweaty? He had half a mind to turn and run, but Bobbi had a hand clasped around his elbow.

"I told you," she said, "she'll be thrilled to see you."

Bobbi all but pulled him across the street, and if he could have strung enough thoughts together to figure out an escape, he would have. But soon enough, there he was, stepping foot on her property for the very first time. He kept his head down as Bobbi lead him down the driveway towards the residence. It felt scandalous to do so much as look up and see her display, even though that was the reason he was there in the first place.

He did look up, though, when he heard Simmons calling his name.

And he must have been hallucinating, or it was some kind of very cruel trick, because Simmons was running towards him, hands outstretched like she was going to embrace him. She stopped short before she reached him, and it wasn't until he followed her gaze down to his hands that he realized he had put them out to shield himself from her. He thought he saw her shake her head when her eyes found his.

"You came," she said, almost gasping. "I can't believe you came! Do you really think you could—"

She was cut off by the clearing of the throat to Fitz's right, and he turned to see Bobbi's tight smile. 

"I didn't tell him."

It was strange, the way his heart sank at the same rate his enemy's face fell. She'd been ecstatic just a moment ago, but now it was like all the life was sucked out of her at once.

"Jemma," said Bobbi, "I'm sorry. I didn't think he'd come over if I—"

Simmons nodded, making a vain attempt at a smile.

"It's fine," she said. "I understand."

Fitz looked from Simmons to Bobbi and found no clues to help him. "What's going on?" he asked.

"She needs help," Bobbi said with a sigh. "Her Christmas display isn't ready for the cameras."

That made Fitz look up and past Bobbi, checking the display for himself, but he was shocked to see that there wasn't one.

 "You—you haven't set anything up yet? You've had all year and you—and you're asking me to hang them up for you? Now?"

If he was in a state of shock before, this sent him reeling. His own display had taken weeks to set up, and that was after months of planning and preparation. Even if Hunter helped, even if he got the whole TV crew to help, there's no way he could get it done in the hour or so they had before filming began. How could he—

"Oh! No, no that's not it," Jemma assured him. "There aren't any lights."

Fitz blinked at her. "Aren't any lights? How do you have a Christmas display without lights? How did you—how did you even get on this show?"

He's trying to think of her previous displays, but, per their previous rules, he's never actually seen them beyond what's shown up in the local news. But if she didn't want to do it this year, how did she manage to get picked for the show? Was this all some elaborate conspiracy involving Bobbi, Daisy, and possibly even Mack, all to lure him into the world of reality television? Did she just want him to make a fool of himself in front of—

"It's a bioluminscent display," Jemma said with a wide grin.

Fitz sputtered for a few moments, completely at sea. "Bioluminescent? Did you spend all year training fireflies or—"

She shook her head, and he could see the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "There are some fireflies, but it's mostly the trees." 

Before he knew it, he was being pulled closer to her house, and he looked down to discover that Jemma Simmons was actually holding his hand. Had the whole world turned upside down, or just his?

"See for yourself," she said, stopping at a large platform with one, gigantic light switch. This, obviously, was for the benefit of the cameras, as he'd been asked to do something like it. "Would you like to do the honors?"

Fitz was completely dumbfounded. Daisy should be the one doing this, or whomever they sent over to judge, so there could be a dramatic illumination of light. It seemed wrong for him to have anything to do with it, but there was something strange about the way she smiled at him, and how the air she breathed out crystallized into a cloud. He found, somehow, that he simply had to do as she asked. His fingers flipped the switch of their own volition, and he was suddenly bathed in light. But as suddenly as it appeared, everything went dark again. But then it came back—dozens of evergreens in red, green, and gold. They flickered off and then on again, and he realized there was so much more. He was surrounded by ivy, holly, poinsettias, and even what he expected to be pear trees, all arranged in various patterns. The pear trees, he realized, were paired with ivy to depict the twelve days of Christmas. A group of poinsettias molded into a manger scene while holly created a merry Saint Nick. He was surrounded by a new, botanical Christmas that he never could have imagined.

"So, you see the problem," she said, though it seemed like there was a pane of glass between them, "there's a problem with the lights. They're not staying on."

He didn't turn to her until she called his name, and from her expression, he guessed she'd said it more than once. He shook his head to clear it, fully aware that the chuckling behind him probably came from Bobbi.

"I thought you said there weren't lights," he managed to say.

She pursed her lips. "There are lights, they're just hidden. They're the catalyst, and I need them to work properly."

He looked around the display again, and now that he was looking, he saw blue light coming from the ground.

"Blue light?"

"It's based off of Dr. Yen-Hsun Su's research," she explained, "except he uses UV rays. I've found a way to use blue light instead."

"That's," Fitz stammered, "that's brilliant. More than brilliant. It's amazing! It's like . . . bio-LED."

It was hard to see under the flickering light, but he thought he saw her blush as she reached over to turn the display off.

"It should be more efficient, actually," Simmons said. "Once I figure out how to do it without the lights. There's some interesting research coming from the Netherlands that might help me. But for now, I've got this, and today it decided to stop working." She paused for a moment, studying him, then sighed. "Now, I know you hate me, but—"

"Hate you?" Fitz furrowed his brow. "I don't hate you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You've avoided even being in the same room with me for years!"

He scoffed at her. "That's because _you_ hate _me_. I wasn't going to make you feel uncomfortable."

"I'm not—"

"You dropped out of Dr. Hall's general chemistry class the moment we got assigned to be partners! What was I supposed to think?"

He didn't understand how he was suddenly so angry, and why his breath could only come out in staccato. Still, it felt good to say it out loud, despite the way that Simmons gaped at him.

"It didn't matter what you thought," she finally said, "What mattered was that Dr. Weaver finally agreed to oversee my independent study, so I had to change my schedule to make it line up with hers."

Fitz had to close his eyes and message his temples just to process the information. "You . . . what? Dr. Weaver?"

"I was conducting a study on cryogenics," she said, looking at him curiously, "surely, you heard about—"

"Of course I heard about your crystalline nucleation—"

"And anyway, I had to have these lights specially made for me by a factory in Nebraska, so will you help me fix them, or won't you?"

They stared at each other, breathing in the cold air until Fitz's head stopped spinning.

"So you're saying," he breathed, "that if Dr. Weaver hadn't overseen your study, you would have stayed in the class and been partners with me?"

She tilted her head to the side, furrowing her brow. "How could anyone hate anyone so much that they'd go to such great lengths to get away from them?"

"I don't know," Fitz answered honestly. "That's why I avoided you; I never wanted to find out." He took a breath to steady him. "I, um, I'll help you. Or I'll try. Depends on the materials I need, and if I have them."

He'd thought he'd seen her widest smile already, but he was wrong. This one was so big that he found that he couldn't stop himself from smiling back.

"Excellent," she said.

* * *

"I should stop you," said Hunter, "and I would, if you weren't holding a power saw."

Fitz groaned. "It's not a power saw; it's a—"

"It doesn't matter what it is if you can use it to decapitate me."

"I'm not going to decap—"

"Anyway," Hunter continued, "it doesn't take a genius to see that what you're trying to do is absolutely stupid. How else are you going to beat glowing trees, unless the glowing trees don't work?"

Fitz pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing his search for tools. "I never should have told you," he concluded. "I should have kept my stupid mouth shut."

"Well," said Hunter, "you _did_ tell me, and as your friend, I am obligated to prevent you from ruining your life."

Fitz rolled his eyes, even though he knew Hunter couldn't see it. "That's not what I'm doing."

"That's exactly what you're doing."

"It's just a television show."

When Hunter offered no reply, Fitz turned to look at him, finding his friend's mouth open in apparent shock.

" _Just_ a television show?" Hunter folded his arms and huffed. "Then I suppose this is just a collection of fairy lights, no matter that you spend a whole year and half a fortune to put all together. You deserve that trophy, Fitz, and you shouldn't help her steal it from you."

"It's not stealing," Fitz argued, "I'm only—she spent three years growing genetically modified plants in a greenhouse! She deserves to win. She'll get more than that trophy for it if there's any justice left in this world. It's just—" He took a breath in and out. "It's always been honest between us. We've always let the best man win. This time, she's the best man."

"She's a woman."

"Whatever!" Fitz checked his toolbox to make sure he had everything he needed, then closed it. "You know what I mean. It's science, and I'm not going to stop its progress."

He took a few steps towards the door, stopping cold when he saw the mad grin on Hunter's face. "What?"

"You fancy her," Hunter said.

Fitz blanched. " _What?_ "

"If she was some middle-aged man, you'd be happy leaving her in the dust."

"No, I wouldn't."

"Fine," said Hunter, "I'll go along with you. You're the one who always says I shouldn't believe everything people tell me."

Fitz stared at him for a while, picturing the horror that would be Hunter interacting with Bobbi and Simmons and knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not without a decapitation, at least.

"Fine," he said, making his way to the door, "but if you're not on your best behavior, you'll find out exactly what my tools do."

Hunter saluted him. "Scout's honor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can learn more about Dr. Yen-Hsun Su's research [here](http://newatlas.com/glowing-trees-using-gold-nanoparticles/16917/). And you can learn about Daan Roosegard's research [here](http://www.iflscience.com/plants-and-animals/bioluminscent-trees-could-light-our-streets/)! Science is cool.

**Author's Note:**

> A big shout out to [ruthedotcom](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthedotcom/pseuds/ruthedotcom), who acted as my own personal SADIST (SAWIST?), even though she's on hiatus. Thanks, Ruth, for reminding me that the original UV light method would have killed everybody. You have saved the lives of countless fictional children.<3
> 
> I regularly post sneak peeks and general ramblings about my writing on [my tumblr](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/tagged/Writings%20of%20Agent%2085).


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